My name is Cheryl Torrance, and this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write.

For the last few years, my life revolved around caring for my mum. She was 92, full of love, humour, and light. Being her full-time carer while working full-time was exhausting, but it was a privilege. She was my world, and I would do anything for her; she was the heart of my life.

In March 2025 she had a fall that changed everything. Her confidence went, her health slowly declined, and she needed round-the-clock support. I stayed by her side through every appointment, hospital visit and difficult moment.

At the end of August, her health deteriorated and she was rushed to hospital, where she spent 5 emotional and distressing weeks. I stayed with her day and night, advocating for her and trying to keep her comfortable. She was finally moved to a hospice, where she passed away just 26 hours later.

Even when you expect it, nothing prepares you for losing your mum. The heartbreak has been overwhelming. I miss her every moment.

One week after she passed away, when I was still barely functioning with grief, I was rushed to hospital myself. I was diagnosed with pulmonary embolisms in both lungs. I was discharged only so I could attend her funeral.

Then, only a week later, my world shattered again: I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.

Grief and illness arrived on top of each other. Some days it felt impossible to get out of bed.

It is hard to describe what it feels like to lose my mum and then face my own life-threatening diagnosis before the shock of grief has even softened

I am living in my mum’s home, surrounded by her things — sometimes it comforts me, sometimes it feels unbearably painful. Facing cancer while grieving her has left me feeling devastated and very alone.

After speaking with my doctors, I’ve chosen an integrated treatment plan that feels right for my body and my circumstances (which will also include major surgery). This involves specialists who are not local to me, which means regular travel, appointments and ongoing costs.

Because I can now only work part-time, I’m struggling to manage these expenses on my own.

This is why I am opening up about my situation and asking for support, which is something I never imagined I would have to do.

I am humbly asking for help with:

Any support, whether by donating or simply sharing my story, would mean more than I can express. Your kindness will help bring some stability during a time when everything in my life feels uncertain.

I lost my mum, and now I am now facing my mortality, but I am determined to keep going, to honour her strength and to give myself the best chance of recovery.

Thank you for reading, thank you for caring, and thank you for holding space for my story.

With heartfelt gratitude

Cheryl x